Your Name Is Eridan
by oniforever
Summary: Dementors are known to bring up the worst memories of your past. In Harry's case, it brings up memories from a life he once lived. Perhaps now both lives could do what they've always wanted. Defeat Voldemort and learn magic. AU starting with POA. No pairings yet.
1. Demented Memories

_**Demented Memories**_

 **A/N:**

 **Oni: Oh no, not another plot bunny.**

 **Eridan: You can't escape them Oni. There's just too many of them.**

 **Oni: To those who read, this fic might update sporadically, I posted this on a whim, but feel free to follow, favorite, and review!**

 **Eridan: Also, I'm sure you a knoww, but Oni does not owwn Harry Potter nor Homestuck, and this idea is her owwn though.**

 **Oni: If you see anything from the books, it's probably from the books.**

 **Oni: And ONWARDS!**

* * *

It had been a rather long day for one thirteen year old Harry James Potter and it had only just started. He had just found out moments ago that the escaped prisoner and murderer Sirius Black was his father's betrayer, and was hell bent on trying to kill him. Even the days of freedom spent in Diagon Alley didn't sate his brooding mood, and the constant bickering between his two best friends was not helping in the slightest. They had chosen a compartment that was empty sans for the scraggly looking sleeping man (whose name they found out from his briefcase was named R. J. Lupin) that Harry surmised was their new Defense teacher, and the Boy Who Lived prayed dearly that he wasn't going to be like the last two.

Currently Harry was sitting in silence, watching the rain thud against the train window as Ron and Hermione talked about Malfoy, who had just barged into the compartment to look for trouble, only to leave in haste after realizing there was a Professor in there with them.

"I'm not going to take any crap from Malfoy this year," Ron growled angrily. "I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I'm going to get hold of his head and -"

He made a violent gesture in midair.

"Ron," hissed Hermione, pointing at Professor Lupin, "be careful…"

But Professor Lupin was still fast asleep.

The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept. Harry wondered in passing if the man was really sleeping.

"We must be nearly there," commented Ron, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the now completely black window.

The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down.

"Great," said Ron, getting up and walking carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast…"

"We can't be there yet," Hermione interrupted, checking her watch.

"So why're we stopping?"

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows. Harry got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments. The Hogwarts Express came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

"What's going on?" shouted Ron's voice from behind Harry.

"Ouch!" gasped Hermione. "Ron! That was my foot!"

Harry felt his way back to his seat.

"Do you think we've broken down?"

"Dunno…" the red head mumbled.

There was a squeaking sound, and Harry saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out.

"There's something moving out there," Ron said, "I think people are coming aboard…"

The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Harry's legs.

"Sorry! D'you know what's going on? Ouch! Sorry -"

"Hullo, Neville," said Harry, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak.

"Harry? Is that you? What's happening?"

"No idea! Sit down -"

There was a loud hissing and a yelp of pain. Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks.

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," came Hermione's voice from somewhere in the darkness.

Harry felt her pass him, heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and two loud squeals of pain.

"Who's that?"

"Who's that?"

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you doing?"

"I was looking for Ron -"

"Come in and sit down -"

"Not here!" said Harry hurriedly, "I'm here!"

"Ouch!" yelped Neville.

"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice suddenly.

Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. Harry could hear movements in his corner. None of them spoke. There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary.

"Stay where you are." he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him.

But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it. Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry's eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water, but it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak. And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart. Harry's eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though he was in the middle of the ocean. He was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder…

He heard a woman's scream, saw a bright flash of green light, before he drifted even further. It felt like he was sinking into an endless ocean, but the place felt oddly familiar. Harry felt a tug in the back of his mind, and he felt something come loose.

New sensations came to surface, and he tried to pinpoint them all.

A girl's scream, raw with emotion.

A flash of brilliant white light.

A girl's (woman?) scream of fright, then her scream of rage.

The sound of a revving machine.

Pain in his middle section as if a blade had just cut him in half.

Emotions bubbled up to his mind, anger, betrayal, sorrow, fear.

The sensations stopped and Harry was left floating there in pain and confusion. These weren't his memories, were they? He was Harry James Potter, son of two war heroes and the Boy Who Lived, a wizard. Harry had never experienced any of those sensations, he was positive. So where had they come from?

The object in the back of his mind was tugging again, and this time Harry felt with his thoughts to help pull the thing completely free. Perhaps if it was free, he thought, he would get his answers. Harry felt the thing grow looser, and doubled his efforts. Then suddenly, whatever he was tugging was free, and he was overwhelmed by an onslaught of slivery water that poured forth from the hole he had made.

Memories came to surface, names to faces, faces to voices. Harry saw skies that were purple and trees that were blue. He saw animals that were exclusively white, and he saw creatures on unimaginable horror creeping from magenta leaves. He saw lighting that was pink and two moons that hung in the sky. He saw constellations that were unlike anything on Earth, yet he felt like he could call their names up to navigate this place if he wished to. He saw insect-based humanoid beings with grey exoskeletons and yellow eyes and sharp teeth and three fingers. He saw different colors of blood flow down into the ground at his feet. He saw some of these beings hold the zodiac signs on their clothing.

And Harry began to remember the life he once had.

He remembered a planet called Alternia and a race called trolls. He remembered scouting the night sky because the daytime sun could boil the ocean at noon. He remembered hunting in the place of a girl he once loved because she refused to kill. He remembered a ship that he used to call home, a floating white seahorse he used to call dad. He remembered the island, the ocean, the lonely emptiness of home. He remembered blue scarves and violet capes and violet blood. He remembered lighting shaped horns and two sets of teeth and a rifle that was always by his side.

He remembered the game called Sgrub, the meteors that destroyed his home. He remembered a Land of Wrath and Angels, and he remembered killing every single one of those disgusting, rotten-skinned creatures. He remembered the meteor, losing his sanity bit by bit. He remembered gaining a wand, and wanting to survive. He remembered his offer, his fight with a mustard blooded hacker, killing the girl he once loved, killing the girl he respected and wanted to help. He remembered that same girl returning the favor with a chainsaw through his abdomen.

These memories mixed in with the ones that he had from this new life. The cupboard under the stairs, magic, Hogwarts, Ron, Hermione, Voldemort. Who was he now? Now that he knew what he was, he could feel the mindsets clashing and mixing until they merged into something that reflected both of them.

His name was Eridan Ampora, the Prince of Hope. A troll from Alternia. Dead at the age of thirteen.

And he remembered everything.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **Oni: I hoped you liked it! Again, this was written on a whim, but if you guys like it, maybe I'll write more!**

 **Eridan: Wwe shall see you next time...**

 **Oni:...My Pretties!**


	2. Identity Merged

_**Identity Merged**_

 **AN:**

 **Oni: Well this was fairly fast.**

 **Eridan: The first chapter alwways followws the prologue fairly quickly.**

 **Oni: True, true! Also, thank you to those who have already favorited, followed, and reviewed! I only put this thing up a couple hours ago! You people are AMAZING!**

 **Eridan:: As usual, Oni does not owwn Harry Potter nor Homestuck, howwevver this idea is her own.**

 **Oni: And ONWARDS!**

* * *

Eridan found irony in the fact that his memories awoke at the same age at which his life was taken. Considering there was no calendar on the meteor, September 1st might as well be the anniversary of his death. He could hear the muffled sounds of people above him, but his mind was in disarray after his sudden memory flood. He pulled out Harry's wand (it was his as well though, wasn't it?) and began to clean up the place that he used to stay in just to have some semblance of normalcy whist on the meteor.

Harry was probably in such a state of confusion that he never noticed his surroundings until he and his past had become one again. Teal wood walls rose high in the recreation of the place he used to call home all those sweeps ago, back when there was no Earth, no Sgrub. A brilliant chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, giving the room a vaguely violet tinge. Bookshelves from his private library filled every nook and cranny, all sorted away by his photographic memory. There were copies of books he had read, which he put back in their place with a quick tap of his wand, books that dictated what he knew about people and places, which he put back much slower, pausing at a few and sighing.

Then there were the books that have never been sorted, simply because of the fact that his reincarnated self did not know how to access this place. Storybooks and textbooks that Dudley had refused to read, Harry's Hogwarts books, the books on everything and everyone that Harry had ever seen, met, spoken to, knew about. This all had to be sorted manually, as Eridan had to go through each of the memory books to make sure he could sort them properly. He used this time to refamiliarize himself with his life as Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Always-Gets-Into-Mountains-Of-Trouble-And-Has-Hyphenated-Names. Flipping through one book, he called up the memory of Harry talking with Dumbledore about his House placement, and the fact that Tom Riddle had told him that they were very much alike.

Tom Riddle was more right than he could ever imagine. If one were to put together Harry Potter and Eridan Ampora, the present and the past, then they would be the closest to emulating the so-called Dark Lord. Harry had grown up an orphan and despised by his relatives until he was saved by Hogwarts. He knew Parseltongue and was almost sorted into Slytherin. Eridan Ampora was a highblood from a society where killing was a normal happenstance, where bloodthirst in people like him was encouraged. He was genocidal, had built machines of doom. He had murdered in own friends in self-defense, and was killed for it. The history of one and the personality of the other would have made a very passable copy.

But Eridan didn't want to be a copy of someone else, no anymore.

He was tired of having his life compromised by the rules he had placed on himself simply because he was following the footsteps of another. They told him magic wasn't real, so he found something else to hold onto in his pitiful existence as a child. Orphaner Dualscar, his ancestor. He emulated the man as best as he could, trying to be a carbon copy of the great warrior. But that was the thing, a warlord like that was not who Eridan was.

Eridan Ampora was a quiet, studious troll who holed himself up in his hive for weeks at a time reading about military and Alternian history and the odd magical theory book. He was an excellent fighter, don't get him wrong, but his intellect outweighed his capacity to fight. Unfortunately, wits were not something that Dualscar had. So he pretended to be someone he wasn't and everybody seemed to just hate him more for it. It confused Eridan to no end. Who did they want him to be if it wasn't himself? He had lost any semblance of friendship from any of the others, his social ineptness making him come off as 'creepy', and he was cut in half with a chainsaw by someone he used to discuss fashion trends with over grubjuice.

Harry Potter was also quiet, but not as studious as his past identity. Since he had no idea what his parents were like, he couldn't emulate them at all. He was slacking in school because of the trouble he constantly got into during the year and therefore was falling behind on most of his classes. Though to be fair, Eridan had always considered 'falling behind' to be when he never tried hard enough. Harry was, in fact, an average wizard, but with the impending reemergence of his new arch nemesis and Dark Lord Voldemort (what an idiotic name, thought Eridan as he read through the man's file) 'average' wasn't going to be good enough.

He needed to be stronger, smarter. He needed to be able to pick out enemies from the friends and vice versa. He needed to be able to remember spells and curses and jinxes. He needed to have a good head on his shoulders and know when and when not to run into the face of danger. He needed to study hard in his work so that perhaps he could build a future for himself outside the Dursley home. He needed to understand that the world was going to use him anyway, so he might as well twist it to his own gain as well.

What he really needed right now was to be Eridan Ampora.

And that was what he was, is, and will be forevermore.

Sure, he was Harry Potter, but the past had an understanding of the world around him that seamlessly merged in together. But that also began to beg another question.

Who was he, Eridan or Harry?

Who was he more of, as they were now both of equal age? Both were of the same mind, body, soul, but not of thinking and personality. Would one become the past and the other the future? Could they bleed into each other until red and violet made something more comprehensible? Will they become some sort of patchwork soul? Will one dominate the other or will they take turns?

Or was he thinking all wrong?

There was no Eridan Ampora and there was no Harry Potter. There was only him, an individual with both those names and both those memories. They were interchangeable not because they were separate, they were never separate, but because they were always the same.

He decided he liked that.

Finally all the books from his new life were sorted, and lamented at the fact that Harry Potter had a significantly smaller selection than Eridan Ampora. Oh well, he thought, he could fix that easily enough. They _were_ going to a magic school, after all. Even though he had been so for two years now, he felt his heart leapt. Magic, oh how he missed using that term. How he missed being the intellectual troll trying to learn magic, even when his later years were dedicated into calling it fake. But this was real, it was all real, and he was going to make to most of it.

He examined the rest of the room, righting things that had fallen, before he realized something rather strange. The room was not how he remembered it last, and tried to pinpoint what was different. A cozy rug covered most of the floor now, which was violet with gold lining, and a fireplace crackled where there had only been wall before. Some plush chairs that were originally a violet hue had changed into red and gold, Gryffindor colors. The mindspace had merged his most coveted places in either life – Eridan's Library and the Gryffindor Common Room. He smiled at this. It truly felt like home, the place in his own mind.

Something shone on top of one of the desks that sat around the edges of the room. He walked up to it and picked the object up. It was his old Sylladex. A quick examination of the contents showed that it still held all of his belongings. Ahab's Crosshairs was still thankfully tucked away in its Strife Specibus, and his husktop still had everything on it. Not expecting anything, he checked Trollian. No one was online. He didn't expect there to be any, but one would never know until they checked. He set the Sylladex to 'Hands-Free' mode so that none of the people outside could access it as he didn't want to have to explain why he was carrying a sniper rifle with him.

A door that was never there before stood near the back corner of the room. It was pitch black with something nasty oozing from the cracks. He felt the negative energy that was behind the door, and locked the thing tightly, putting a couple of chains around it from good measure.

Looking around, he saw that he was done for now, and allowed himself to be pulled to the surface.

* * *

"Harry! Harry! Are you all right?"

Someone was slapping his face.

"W-what?"

He opened his eyes. There were lanterns above him, and the floor was shaking. The Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights had come back on. He seemed to have slid out of his seat onto the floor whilst inside his mind. Ron and Hermione were kneeling next to him, and above them he could see Neville and Professor Lupin watching. How long had he been inside? He felt rather sick, as if he had all the joy sucked out of him by some sort of emotional vacuum cleaner. Small violent spasms came over him, and he realized that he was shivering. What had caused this?

It was then that he remembered the creature that started this chain of events, causing Harry to remember who he was. Ron and Hermione heaved him back onto his seat.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked nervously.

"Yeah," he replied, looking quickly toward the door.

The hooded creature had vanished.

"Wwhat happened? Wwhere's that… that thin?"

Drat, his voice was taking on his old wavy accent, this certainly would not do. Hopefully they would just chalk it up to some stuttering. Eridan looked around the bright compartment. Ginny and Neville looked back at him, both very pale. A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

"Here," he said to Eridan, handing him a particularly large piece, "Eat it. It'll help."

Eridan took the chocolate but didn't eat it, his emerald green eyes (wouldn't Kanaya be proud, he now had the same shade of green she did) regarding the candy critically.

"Wwhat wwas that thin?" he asked Lupin.

"A Dementor," replied Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else, "One of the Dementors of Azkaban."

Dementors? They looked more like those dratted Wrath Angels back on LOWAA, with their grey rotting skin and their ability to make you feel like you would never be happy again… And the others had said that killing them all was wrong. Everyone stared at the man. Professor Lupin crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket.

"Eat," he repeated, "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…"

He strolled past Eridan and disappeared into the corridor.

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" asked Hermione, watching Eridan anxiously.

"I'm…fine. Could someone explain wwhat just happened?" he said carefully, wiping some sweat that had formed on his face at some point during his trip down memory lane.

"Well…that thing…the Dementor…stood there and looked around, I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face…and you…you…"

"I thought you were having a fit or something," picked up Ron, who still looked scared, "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching…"

"And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the Dementor, and pulled out his wand," said Hermione, "and he said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the Dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away…"

Silvery thing? He had to learn what that 'silvery thing' was. If it could keep away those Dementors, Eridan would be just fine. A murderer bent on killing him was easier to deal with at the moment than those creatures. After all, those things didn't look like they could be killed easily…perhaps he should introduce Ahab's Crosshairs to them?

"It was horrible," said Neville, in a higher voice than usual, "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?"

"I felt weird," said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably, "Like I'd never be cheerful again…"

Ginny, who was huddled in her corner looking nearly as bad as Eridan felt, gave a small sob. Hermione went over and put a comforting arm around her. He heaved a heavy sigh, contemplating their words. If what he could gather was true, only he was greatly affected by this Dementor attack, considering that he had fallen out of his seat.

"Did any of you fall out of your seats?" he asked carefully.

"No," said Ron, looking anxiously at Harry again, "Ginny was shaking like mad, though…"

Perhaps the Dementors called up one's worst memories? Eridan, even as Harry Potter, had an overload of horrible memories. It would explain why some were more affected by others - Ginny was probably forced to relive the nightmare of Tom Riddle's diary. Eridan's attack was so bad it called up memories from his past life, though perhaps that was a good thing.

Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said with a small smile.

"I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know…"

Eridan took a bite and to his great surprise felt warmth spread suddenly throughout his being. Chocolate was an antidote for Dementor attacks? Curious, very curious, why was that? If those things were going anywhere near him anytime soon, he might just become a chocoholic.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," said Professor Lupin, "Are you all right, Harry?"

How did the Professor know his name? His memory dictated that he had never really seen the man before during his years with the Dursleys or anytime in the magical world.

"I am better, thank you." he intoned.

Eridan saw a flicker of confusion run through the man's amber eyes, before Professor Lupin simply smiled kindly at him. The smile was like that of greeting an old friend, which sent Eridan into a frenzied search other whether he had actually met the man before. Nobody talked much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside. Owls hooted, cats meowed, and Neville's pet toad croaked loudly from under his hat. It was freezing on the tiny platform and rain was driving down in icy sheets.

"Firs' years this way!" called a familiar voice.

Eridan turned and saw the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake. Poor children, they had to pass through the lake in the freezing rain. Eridan was grateful that Harry's journey was much drier, which was rather ironic coming from a person that used to have fins and gills.

"All right, you three?" Hagrid yelled over the heads of the crowd.

They waved at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around them was shunting them away along the platform. Eridan, Ron, and Hermione followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students. Each were pulled by a creature that Eridan would have assumed came from a child's nightmare. They were completely fleshless, their black coats clinging to their skeletons, of which every bone was visible. Their heads were dragonish, and their pupil-less eyes white and staring as if they were dead things. Wings sprouted from each wither — vast, black leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the gloom, the creatures looked eerie and sinister.

Eridan wracked his memory, and tried to remember if he had seen those creatures the first time around. Pulling a memory to surface, he realized that Harry saw them as being pulled by invisible horses. Why were they visible now? What had changed? Could a Dementor attack allow him to see these creatures? He turned to Ron and Hermione, gauging their reactions. Their eyes passed over the strange horse beings, as if they couldn't see it. So a Dementor attack was out, what else had changed?

Quite a bit, really, now that he had his memories back. He stared at the horse creatures and they stared back at him. They did not give off any aura that suggested malicious intent, (wait, aura? He could sense those again?) so he gave them a pat on the neck and joined Ron and Hermione inside the coach.

The coach smelled faintly of mold and straw. Eridan felt better since the chocolate, but still weak from whatever else the Dementor had done to him. Ron and Hermione kept looking at him sideways, as though frightened he might collapse again. As the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Eridan saw two more towering, hooded Dementors standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf him again, and he leaned back into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until they had passed the gates. The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle. Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and Hermione and Ron got out. As Eridan himself stepped out of the coach as smoothly as he could, he heard a drawling, delighted voice in his ear.

"You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?"

Draco Malfoy elbowed past Hermione to block Eridan's way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously. Eridan, with his personality and memories back, smirked.

"At least I had the decency to faint. I heard rumors about _you_ screamin like a little girl."

Malfoy's face turned beet red, and Ron began to laugh from behind.

"Ah, so it's true then, you _did_ scream. Tut, tut, wwhat happened to bein the strong pureblood scion?" Malfoy sneered at Eridan, his face still redder than Karkat when he found that Terezi had scribbled on his rom-coms.

"At least _I'm_ not stuttering like Professor Quirrell did!"

Stuttering? Oh, his accent. It seemed that since his defenses were down, he couldn't stop talking with it. Maybe when he was better he could go back to speaking like all the other humans.

"Is there a problem?" said a mild voice.

Professor Lupin had just gotten out of the next carriage. Malfoy gave Professor Lupin an insolent stare, which took in the patches on his robes and the dilapidated suitcase. With a tiny hint of sarcasm in his voice, he said.

"Oh, no…er… _Professor_." then he smirked at Crabbe and Goyle and led them up the steps into the castle.

Hermione prodded Ron in the back to make him hurry, and the three of them joined the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant oak front doors, into the cavernous Entrance Hall, which was lit with flaming torches, and housed a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors.

He was back at Hogwarts, and this time nothing would be standing in his way.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **Oni: And that's all for now, folks!**

 **Eridan: If you wwant to see more, simply revvieww. More revviewws, more updates.**

 **Oni: He's right, but thank you to those who already have!**

 **Eridan: And wwe shall see you next time...**

 **Oni: My Pretties!**


	3. A Second Chance, A New Start

_**A Second Chance, A New Start**_

 **AN:**

 **Oni: Well, as you can see, another chapter is up!**

 **Eridan: Your revviewws may havve had somethin to do wwith that.**

 **Oni: Yes they did! Also, please don't be upset of this thing doesn't update as frequently as it does right now, I'm taking lines out of the original book now but once it really starts deviating from the original plot then it will take more time to write.**

 **Eridan: Oni does not owwn Harry Potter or Homestuck. This idea, howwevver, is hers.**

 **Oni: And ONWARDS!**

* * *

The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right. Eridan followed the crowd toward it, but had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which was black and cloudy tonight, when a voice called out.

"Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!"

Eridan searched his memory, and realized that it had to belong to Minerva McGonagall, Head of the Gryffindor House, Deputy Headmistress, and Transfiguration Professor. She was one of the few people that Harry would trust, and Eridan still had a grudging respect for the woman. Professor McGonagall reminded him vaguely of an older version of Maryam in a way, at least with her stern personality. He wondered what she wanted with him, surely he wasn't behaving _that_ strangely… He and Hermione pushed through the crowd to get to her with nervous dispositions.

"There's no need to look so worried — I just want a word in my office," she told them, "Move along there, Weasley."

Ron stared as Professor McGonagall ushered Eridan and Hermione away from the chattering crowd. They accompanied her across the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, and along a corridor. Once they were in her office, a small room with a large, welcoming fire, Professor McGonagall motioned Eridan and Hermione to sit down. She settled herself behind her desk before speaking abruptly.

"Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Potter."

Before Eridan could reply, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, came bustling in. He internally rolled his eyes. By the Empress, he had only fainted; it wasn't as if he _died_.

…Okay, technically he did, but not as Harry Potter. Besides, who knew how long it had been since he had been sliced in half? Six sweeps? Ten? Or perhaps Paradox Space struck again and he wound up in some other time?

Eridan wasn't an idiot, he knew where he was. This was Earth, the planet he and his friends poured their hearts into making during the game, the centerpiece of Bilious Slick. He knew that the humans he conversed with had just had their own Armageddon, and had more advanced technology than the muggle world Harry Potter lived in. So that meant that he had been placed in a time before that, on Earth before the 'Sburb' humans were probably even born. What a curious thought.

He wondered what these humans would have done if they ever found out what he had given them.

"I'm alright." he said, trying to avoid any words that would show his accent, "I don't need-"

"Oh, it's you, is it?" interrupted Madam Pomfrey, ignoring his words and bending down to stare closely at him, "I suppose you've been doing something dangerous again?"

"It was a Dementor, Poppy," answered Professor McGonagall.

They exchanged a dark look, and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly.

"Setting Dementors around a school," she muttered, pushing back Eridan's hair (messy and completely black with no violet highlight in sight) and feeling his forehead, "He won't be the last one who collapses. Yes, he's all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate —"

"I am _not_ delicate!" Eridan squawked indignantly.

"Of course you're not." soothed Madam Pomfrey absentmindedly, now taking his pulse.

"What does he need?" asked Professor McGonagall crisply, "Bed rest? Should he perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?"

Eridan forgot how…weak humans were. On Alternia you just pulled yourself up and continued beating the shit out of your enemies. On Earth young humans were coddled every time they fell. At Hogwarts, the coddling was lessened to some degree, as you could actually get seriously injured in this castle (see: Stairs, Fluffy, Dragons, Professor Voldesnore, House Elves, Professor Imbecil Lockhart, Cursed Diaries, Basilisks, and the entire game of Quiddich).

"I'm fine, Professor." Eridan said groaning.

"Well, he should have some chocolate, at the very least," said Madam Pomfrey, who was now trying to peer into Eridan's eyes (they were still green when he checked his reflection in the coach window).

"I'vve already had some," Eridan muttered with narrowed eyes, "Professor Lupin gavve me some. He gavve it to all of us."

"Did he, now?" said Madam Pomfrey approvingly, "So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?"

At the same time as the Mediwitch had said this, McGonagall asked Eridan sharply, narrowing her eyes.

"Are you sure you feel all right, Potter?"

"Yes." he replied testily.

"You were stuttering before, when you were talking about Professor Lupin."

Drat. Why did his accent have to make people think he was unwell?

"I'm fine, Professor." Eridan answered, and gave her a convincing, bright smile.

"Very well." Professor McGonagall said with a sigh, "Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her course schedule, then we can go down to the feast together."

Eridan was about to leave the room before he stopped. Schedules… Oh right, third years could take elective courses. What did Harry pick now? Something to do with Ron and easy courses…

Divination? Eridan understood prophecy, so any type of foresight was welcome. Care of Magical Creatures? Hm…perhaps I would be rather useful to learn about the magical wildlife. Plus Hagrid's gift to him during the holidays suggested they might be dangerous, and Eridan was not going to miss out on an opportunity to learn how to tame them. He'd never be as good as Nitram with animals, but he might be sufficient enough to use them eventually into battle. There were other electives that were offered, but Harry and Ron wanted to do the minimum amount of work required.

Obviously, Eridan was different. Arithmancy caught his attention when he flipped through the memory of the electives list, and so did Ancient Runes. Muggles studies seemed rather redundant for someone who lived in the muggle world during his summers, but the others held merit.

Perhaps he should talk to the Professor about adding subjects…

"Actually Professor," he started, causing McGonagall to raise an eyebrow at him, "Could I talk to you about my schedule? I w-anted to add tw-o more electiv-es."

There, and he even made sure not to double his Ws. Fortunately, his Head of House did not comment on his strange speech, but instead nodded slowly.

"Alright Mister Potter, what is it that you wanted to add?"

"Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

Professor McGonagall blinked a couple of times.

"And here I thought you and Mister Weasley were going to put in minimum effort. Very well, Mister Potter, I will add those two courses, but please see me after Miss Granger and I have finished talking. We will have to rework your schedule."

Eridan nodded brightly, and went back into the corridor with Madam Pomfrey, who left for the hospital wing, muttering to herself. He had to wait only a few minutes before Hermione emerged looking very happy about something. The Gryffindor was then beckoned back in, and saw that McGonagall had his schedule out.

"Now, I am going to give you the same talk I had given Miss Granger. With the added two classes, you will have class overlap. Miss Granger, bless her heart, has decided to tackle all the electives offered. While you are Muggle studies, the extra two classes will overlap your first two. Because of this, the school has these in special order."

She held up what looked to be a small hourglass suspended in golden rings, hung on a golden chain. The sand inside the glass was of the purest white, finer than any granule Eridan had ever seen.

"We usually hold these for exceptionally studious Ravenclaws, but it seems both you and Miss Granger will be using these. This is a Time Turner. You hang the chain around your neck and spin this little hourglass to go back in time. One hour per spin, and this particular time turner only allows for you to go back twelve hours in a true twenty four hour period. Remember not to run into yourself whilst reliving the past to get to your other classes, terrible things happen to those who mess with time, Mister Potter. I trust that you will study harder than you have for the past two years and that you don't take advantage of this device. I call easily take it away if I see you abusing it."

Eridan looked at it with wide eyes. A palm sized time machine? How incredibly useful, as long as he didn't use it for nefarious deeds like she warned him against. Perhaps he could get some extra study done with this, perhaps hide in the Chamber of Secrets? He would have to clear out the giant Basilisk corpse, but a quiet reading place would be rather nice…

He carefully took the Time Turner from her hands and nodded to her solemnly.

"I w-on't, Professor, you can trust me."

She gave him a tight smile, a hint of pride flickering across her features. Then Eridan turned around and walked out of the room to where Hermione was waiting patiently, followed by Professor McGonagall, and the three of them made their way back down the marble staircase to the Great Hall. It was a sea of pointed black hats. Each of the long House tables was lined with students, their faces glimmering by the light of thousands of candles, which were floating over the tables in midair. Professor Flitwick, who was a tiny little wizard with a shock of white hair (Eridan wondered in passing if the man was entirely human), was carrying an ancient hat and a three-legged stool out of the hall.

"Oh," said Hermione softly, "we've missed the Sorting!"

Professor McGonagall strode off toward her empty seat at the staff table, and Eridan and Hermione set off in the other direction, as quietly as possible, toward the Gryffindor table. People looked around at them as they passed along the back of the hall, and a few of them pointed at Eridan. Had the story of his collapsing in front of the Dementor traveled that fast? Were their minds so obsessed with the business of others that they couldn't mind their own business?

That was one thing Eridan missed about Alternia, everyone minded their own damn business. This was why most trolls got away with not being culled for simple things, and the reason why nobody caught on of Vantas's true blood color. Everyone was too busy trying to survive the harsh habitat they lived in that paying attention to another's troll's business was considered incredibly rude.

He and Hermione sat down on either side of Ron, who had saved them seats.

"What was all that about?" he muttered to Eridan.

Eridan started to explain in a whisper, but at that moment the headmaster stood up to speak, and he broke off, giving the wizened old man his full attention. Professor Dumbledore, though very old, always gave an impression of great energy. From the amount of times he's been sent to Dumbledore's office, Eridan wondered if it had to do with the amount of sugar he ingested.

Trolls he knew had a high tolerance for sugar, as most of their native fruits were incredibly sweet. As an insect based race, sugar was a large part of their diet, and rarely were there any effects if ingested at a high rate. But humans were different, humans were mammal based. While their diet contains sugar, too much sugar could lead to an excessive energy high before they crashed when that energy ran out.

"Welcome!" chortled Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard, "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…"

The headmaster cleared his throat, and suddenly his expression turned serious.

"As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

The Ministry was behind this? Eridan looked back at Harry's memories at his most recent stay at Diagon Alley, and picked out the one with Fudge in it. Now that he remembered, the man seemed a little off. Staring at Dumbledore's face, it was evident the man was not happy with this arrangement. Perhaps the Ministry was slowly trying to take control of the school? That was never good.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises — or even Invisibility Cloaks," Dumbledore added blandly, and Eridan and Ron glanced at each other, "It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses."

Yep, that definitely sounded like the wrathful angels back on LOWAA, those dirty, rotten…

"I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors,"

Percy, who was sitting a few seats down from Eridan, puffed out his chest again and stared around impressively. Dumbledore paused again in his speech. He looked very seriously around the hall. Nobody moved or made a sound.

"On a happier note," he continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped hard, Eridan among them. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes. Perhaps he couldn't afford any? It added to Eridan's theory that the man might have a serious or terminal illness.

"Look at Snape!" Ron hissed in Eridan's ear.

Professor Snape was staring at the new teacher the way Eridan used to stare at Sollux. That was never a good sign for anything. While he understood jealousy, what was between the sallow Potions Master and Professor Lupin must run deeper than that. Because what Snape was giving Lupin was the glare of uncomprehendable loathing. The parallels between the two seemed to disgust the part of him that still hated Snape, while the rest of him couldn't bring himself to care about the man's hatred toward himself anymore. He had been through much worse in his younger life, survived the end of the world, and even fucking _died_ , a man who was strict in a volatile subject and a loathing for a single student was nothing compared to Jack Noir. The only thing Eridan wanted to do was hope that Lupin survived the year without being poisoned by Professor Snape, he seemed to be a competent enough teacher from what he could see from the train.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away, "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

Oh my. Eridan, Ron, and Hermione stared at one another, stunned. Then they joined in with the applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffindor table in particular, considering the giant of a man used to be one of their own before he was expelled. Eridan leaned forward to see Hagrid, who was as flushed as Karkat in the middle of a touching scene in one of his rom-coms and staring down at his enormous hands, his wide grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard.

"We should've known!" Ron roared, pounding the table, "Who else would have assigned us a biting book?"

The red-haired boy had a point. Only Hagrid would have thought up of something like that. The three of them were the last to stop clapping, happy for their friend, and as Professor Dumbledore started speaking again, they saw that Hagrid was wiping his eyes on the tablecloth.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore, "Let the feast begin!"

The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink. It was a delicious feast, as usual. The hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. Eridan got to experience the strange tastes of human food for the first time since regaining his memories, and was still impressed and amazed by how colorful all the dishes were. Everyone seemed to be taking their time to enjoy their warm meals in light of the coldness that they all felt during the Dementor attack. Eridan, Ron, and Hermione, however, were eager for it to finish so that they could talk to Hagrid. They knew how much being made a teacher would have meant to him. Hagrid wasn't a fully qualified wizard, so it would have taken quite a bit of string pulling to get him that position.

At long last, when the last morsels of pumpkin tart had melted from the golden platters, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for them all to go to bed, and they got their chance.

"Congratulations, Hagrid!" Hermione squealed as they reached the High Table.

"All down ter you three," said Hagrid, wiping his shining face on his napkin as he looked up at them, "Can' believe it… great man, Dumbledore… came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough… It's what I always wanted…" Overcome with emotion, he buried his face in his napkin, and Professor McGonagall shooed them away.

Eridan joined the Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircase to the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower, where a large portrait of the Fat Lady asked them in a sleepy tone.

"Password?"

"Coming through, coming through!" Percy called from behind the crowd, "The new password's _Fortuna Major_!"

"Oh no," mumbled Neville Longbottom sadly.

He always had trouble remembering the passwords. Eridan felt a little sorry for him, so he sidled up to where the shy Gryffindor was standing dejectedly.

"Hey Nev-ille," he whispered and the boy looked up at the mention of his name, "Fortuna Major means 'Greater Fortune' in Latin, like most of our passwords. Think about it this w-ay, w-e all w-ant a greater fortune at the start of the year. Do you think you can remember it that w-ay?"

"Yeah..." Neville replied with a small smile, before looking at Eridan worriedly, "Are you alright though, Harry? You're talking weird. The Dementor must have done a number on you."

Apparently fixing his double letter accent wasn't enough, he'll practice his speech problem in the morning.

"Yeah, I'm fine." he replied with a smile of his own.

Through the portrait hole and across the common room, the girls and boys divided toward their separate staircases. Dean, Seamus, Ron and Neville all changed into their night clothes mechanically before collapsing into their beds and shutting their curtains. Eridan followed suit as he changed into his pajamas, but realized when he laid in his bunk with the curtains drawn tight that he was wide awake.

Thoughts were zooming in his mind, as usual, and Eridan cursed the fact that his insomnia had carried over. This most certainly would not do in a study-heavy environment like Hogwarts, so he ended up laying on his back, staring at the roof of his bunk, breathing in slow, measured paces. He cleared his mind, and entered the familiar room decorated in violet. Walking over to the bookcases, he sorted the books on the new information he had gathered, one book for Dementors, one for Professor Lupin, and one for Time Turners. Then he took the first book dictating Harry's life and settled down in one of his mind-chairs to read.

Three hours into the night and he had skimmed the entire bookshelf's worth, and breathed a sigh of relief. At least now he was up to date with everything once more, and didn't have to frantically search the shelf just to find simple answers that he as clueless Harry Potter could easily recall. His mind began to wander to other things, like what had happened to the others. How much time had passed? Was it even possible? Did he even want to attempt it? Kanaya had made it pretty clear that he was about as welcome as Jack Noir on the meteor.

Speaking of his killer, he wondered what she was doing now. Last time he had seen her, she had smashed Serket in the face, kicked Makara in the bonebulge, snapped his science stick (what _was_ that thing, really?) and cut him in half with her chainsaw. Granted, all three of them had sins to answer for. Serket had killed Nitram, Makara had murdered both Zahhak and Leijon, and he had blinded Captor (stupid pissblood wanted a fight and he lost, what was the deal in that?), shot Peixes through the sternum (she was trying to run him through with her trident, _that_ was self-defense), destroyed the Matriorb and shot Maryam through the stomach (okay, he would admit, _that_ was uncalled for). But Eridan was a little miffed at the fact that his punishment did not fit the crime in light of his other sinner friends.

All Vriska got was a punch to the face and she murdered a paraplegic pacifist in cold blood. Knowing Equius, he wouldn't have put up a fight and Nepeta was not as strong as the purple blooded maniac. What did Gamzee get? A kick to the groin. He accepts a duel from Sollux and wins (he was only blinded too, and Terezi managed just fine) and suddenly he's had to act quickly and defend himself from his ex-moirail. Then he _saw_ Kanaya reach for her lipstick and he decided to make her pay for even _thinking_ about trying to fight him, but unfortunately that just riled her up even more.

He made sure she knew that going against him was a terrible idea by beaming her through the stomach.

When he came across Vriska, he was ready to kill her for all the wrongs she had committed against him and everyone else, and she had come to him for the reverse reason. Then Gamzee tried to throw a monkey wrench into the duel by arriving, and then they all got their shit kicked out by a newly resurrected Rainbow Drinker who was literally and figuratively out for blood.

Thinking about his past life as a troll started to make his brain hurt, and Eridan started to wonder if reminiscing about the past was doing anything good at all. As far as he knew, he had died on a sour note with each of his friends, deceased or alive. Were any of the others here? He doubted it. So in essence Eridan had been given second chance, a fresh start.

Albeit a fresh start as Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Crazy Lucked Wizard, but a start nonetheless.

That had to count for something, Eridan thought as his eyelids finally fluttered closed in slumber.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **Oni: And that's all for now folks! Thanks to all who have followed, favorited, and reviewed this story!**

 **Eridan: And here is some questions for you, wwill anyone catch onto Harry/My strange behavvior? If so, wwho first? Wwhat are the other trolls doing? Wwhat should happen in the future?**

 **Oni: Tell us in the reviews!**

 **Eridan: And wwe shall see you next time...**

 **Oni: My Pretties!**


	4. Divine Omens

_**Divine Omens**_

 **A/N:**

 **Oni: Another chapter is here!**

 **Eridan: Just about time, noww go and help the other me that wwasn't reincarnated as Harry.**

 **Oni: I'm getting to it!**

 **Harry: And the one where I'm split into two undead halves.**

 **Oni: I'm getting on that too!**

 **Garry: And the one with me in it.**

 **Oni: Gosh darn it yes that one too!**

 **Eridan: You're spreadin yourself out too thin.**

 **Oni: I know that! But plot bunnies!**

 **Eridan: Anywways, Oni does not owwn Harry Potter or Homestuck. This idea, howwevver, is hers.**

 **Oni: ONWARDS!**

* * *

Eridan opened his eyes to see a familiar gray ceiling. He was lying on his back, arms and legs splayed out as if he had passed out from another round of intense FLARPing. Lights flickered on and off in an algorithmic fashion, giving him the visual stimuli that probably roused him from his unconsciousness in the first place. Every part of his body was aching, but the area around his lower torso was searing in pain.

Groaning, Eridan managed to drag himself up to a sitting position and looked around. He was on the meteor, alone. A stab of pain forced his attention back on his current state, and the troll looked down, lifting his shirt up.

It looked like someone had stitched him up after Maryam's Chainsaw Massacre on his abdomen. His torso and legs were neatly sewn together with some sort of black thread, crusted with his violet blood. Well, that would explain the pain…

Did that mean he was alive?

Painstakingly he shifted to a standing position and walked to where the remains of his Science Stick laid. Gingerly picking them up, Eridan examined the broken pieces before pocketing them. Looking around, he decided to search for any other people that might be around. As he passed an empty ectobiology container, he caught sight of his reflection. His cape was gone (damn that Maryam, she made it into a sash, didn't she) and his eyes were a milky white.

Not alive then.

Eridan continued walking, noting in irony that this was the same route he had taken when he had decided to confront Feferi on joining Jack Noir. Speaking of which, where was she now? If he was dead, would he see her in this recreation of the meteor? Would she hate him?

That was a stupid question, of course she would. Everyone probably hated him by now. Eridan knew that everyone had a lower tolerance for his personal brand of bullshit for some stupid reason, and even though Makara would get off relatively scot-free, he would be persecuted to oblivion. Vantas had written him off as dead, he had blown a hole in Peixes, he had permanently blinded Captor, if Maryam ever found him again he would be double dead, Serket was a bitch anyway, and the other trolls had always considered him strange and creepy.

Why bother finding people that hated you? He had ruined his life, both living and dead, with the shit that he had pulled. Nobody would probably even talk to him, never mind welcome him with open arms. Did he have any friends at this point? Eridan tried to find one, but his mind came up empty.

Now what? If he bumped into someone they would probably try to kill him and, knowing his luck, the news of his misdeeds would have spread through this afterlife like wildfire already. There was nothing for him here, nothing to hold onto. No reason to stay. But where would he go? Was he able to leave this place? If only he could get away from this place, away from his ex-friends and this world that had royally fucked him up physically, mentally, socially.

The shards of his Science Stick started vibrating, and the dead troll quickly scooped the pieces out of his pocket. From the two snapped halves to the small splinters covering his grey, four fingered hands, the shards of the stick started to glow. They began to float up, flying to a place that was five inches in front of his face before merging in a flash of light. Eridan's vision was momentarily compromised, and when the spots in his sight finally dissipated, he was met with a floating solid replica of his Aspect.

The white wings of Hope rotated slowly in front of his face, as if waiting for him to take it.

What did this mean? Was this supposed to be Hope for the future, Hope for the trials he would have to face in the future? Was it courage to face his old friends, the nerve to be able to talk the again? Or was this entirely different? Was this, instead, a Hope for a second chance? Eridan narrowed his eyes in determination before his hand clasped around the floating insignia.

Whatever this was, he would make the most of it.

A brilliant flash of white light engulfed him, before that light suddenly turned jade green.

"No! Not Harry! Don't take my son!" screamed a voice before it was silenced by the light.

Eridan's mind started to cloud over, started to forget. He felt a stab of pain in his forehead, something worming its way into his mind. A man screamed in pain over him, but he found that he could not move. He felt so tired, so groggy, and started to close his eyes.

As Eridan Ampora closed his eyes on October 31st, Harry Potter slept on with dreams of magenta leaves, grey skinned horned beings, and a warship that felt like home.

* * *

When Eridan, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing they saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As they passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter.

"Ignore him," muttered Hermione, who was right behind Eridan, "Just ignore him, it's not worth it…"

"Of course he isn't." Eridan replied to Hermione's surprise, rolling his eyes, "If he w-ere, then he w-ouldn't be doing that. Look at him, he's making a fool of himself."

Ron and Hermione grinned, but their smiles dropped when a certain green-clad bitch approached them.

"Hey, Potter!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with a face that reminded Eridan of a flat-nosed barkbeast, "Potter! The Dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooooo!"

"Aaaak!" Eridan mock-shrieked, recoiling away, "W-hat is that? It's hideous!"

He waved his arms dramatically, and Parkinson looked as if she was slapped in the face. The Gryffindor table broke out into peals of laughter. Malfoy glared at Eridan, and the Gryffindor did an impression of Malfoy squealing in fright, earning another round of loud laughter from his House-mates. Eridan dropped into a seat at the Gryffindor table, next to George Weasley, with a smirk.

"New third-year course schedules," said George, passing them over, "Good comeback, by the way."

"Thank you, but it didn't last v-very long, did it?" Eridan replied, reading over his schedule.

George looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again.

"That little git," he said calmly, "He wasn't so cocky last night when the Dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"

"Nearly wet himself, and screamed like a little girl, but you knew about that second one didn't you Harry?" said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy before giving Eridan a wink.

"I wasn't too happy myself," continued George, "They're horrible things, those Dementors…"

"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" muttered Fred.

"Yes, they seem to have some rather negativve effects…" Eridan mumbled, before his eyes widened as the Twins looked his over with worry.

Shit. His accent!

"I…the stutterin wwill pass…" he stated nervously, inwardly cursing as his accent became more prominent.

Fred and George however, seemed to take his speech pattern differently.

"Forget it, Harry," whispered George bracingly, "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking… They suck the happiness out of a place, Dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quiddich match," added Fred with a grin, "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"

Ah yes, Quiddich. It was exhilarating, flying on a broom, something he was never able to experience quite like that in his past life. Eridan gave the Twins a smile before helping himself to some pancakes and cream.

Hermione, on the other hand, was smiling at her schedule.

"Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," she said happily.

"Wwe chose our electivves durin the holidays Hermione, wwe kneww that already." remarked Eridan, before Ron craned over to see what they had.

"Hermione, Harry," started Ron, frowning as he looked over their shoulders, "they've messed up your timetable. Look, they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough _time_."

"Wwe'vve looked it ovver wwith Professor McGonagall, it's fine." Eridan said with a roll of his eyes.

"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall." Hermione sniffed at the same time.

"But look," declared Ron, laughing, "see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And…" Ron leaned closer to the timetable, disbelieving, " _look_ — underneath that, Arithmancy, _nine o'clock_. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's _that_ good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"

"Don't be silly," answered Hermione shortly, "Of course I won't be in three classes at once."

"Well then-"

"Pass the marmalade," interrupted Hermione, who wasn't looking at Ron anymore.

"But-"

"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my timetable's a bit full?" Hermione snapped, "I told you, I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

"Relax Ron, wwe'vve sorted it all out. After all, magic can do wwonderous thins." Eridan told an upset Ron, "Let us study like nutters in peace, alright?"

Hermione let out an indignant huff at being called a nutter, but Ron cracked a grin.

"Alright Harry, but if you two start to overwork, I'll pull you away from your books by force!"

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absentmindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand.

"All righ'?" he boomed eagerly, pausing on his way to the staff table, "Yer in my firs' ever lesson! Right after lunch! Bin up since five getting' everthin' ready… hope it's okay… me, a teacher… hones'ly…"

He grinned broadly at them and headed off to the staff table, still swinging the polecat.

"Wonder what he's been getting ready?" mused Ron aloud, a note of anxiety in his voice.

"Seein the cat, probably somethin big that likes meat."

"Harry, _most_ of Hagrid's beasts are 'something big that likes meat'." Ron retorted with a groan.

The Hall was starting to empty as people headed off towards their first lesson. Ron checked his schedule.

"We'd better go, look, Divination's at the top of North Tower. It'll take us ten minutes to get there…"

They finished breakfast hastily, said goodbye to Fred and George and walked back through the hall. As they passed the Slytherin table, Malfoy did yet another impression of a fainting fit. In retaliation, Eridan crossed his legs and pretended to squeal like a baby. Shouts of laughter aimed toward the blond Slytherin made him smirk all the way to the Entrance Hall.

The journey through the castle to North Tower was a long one. Two years at Hogwarts hadn't taught them everything about the castle, and they had never been inside North Tower before.

"There's…got…to…be…a…short…cut…" Ron panted, as they climbed the seventh long staircase and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall.

"I think it's this way," offered Hermione, peering down the empty passage to the right.

"Can't be," replied Ron, "That's south. Look, you can see a bit of the lake outside the window…"

"Ron," Eridan started, "since wwhen did anythin at Hogwwarts make sense?"

The red-haired Gryffindor groaned.

"You've got a point there, mate…"

Eridan saw motion out of the corner of his eye, and turned to the wall to see a large framed painting. A fat, dappled-gray pony had just ambled onto the grass and was grazing nonchalantly. As Harry, he was used to the subjects of Hogwarts paintings moving around and leaving their frames to visit each other, but he always enjoyed watching them. A moment later, a short, squat knight in a suit of armor had clanked into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he had just fallen off.

"Aha!" he yelled, seeing Eridan, Ron and Hermione, "What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!"

They watched in astonishment as the little knight tugged his sword out of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hopping up and down in rage. But the sword was too long for him and a particularly wild swing made him overbalance, and he landed face down in the grass.

Eridan had a feeling that this portrait wasn't of a real knight, but of a caricature. There was no way someone could be _that_ stupid.

…Right?

"Are you all right?" asked Ron, moving closer to the picture.

"Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!"

The knight seized his sword again and used it to push himself back up, but the blade sank deeply into the grass and, though he pulled with all his might, he couldn't get it out again. Finally, he had to flop back down onto the grass and push up his visor to mop his sweating face.

"Listen," Eridan said, taking advantage of the knight's exhaustion, "wwe're lookin for the North Tower. Do you happen to knoww the wway?"

"A quest!" The knight's rage seemed to vanish instantly, and he clanked to his feet and shouted, "Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!"

He gave the sword another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the fat pony, gave up, and cried out-

"On foot then, good sirs and gentle lady! On! On!" And he ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of sight.

So he really _was_ that stupid. Hopefully he could memorize the path to the classroom so that he never had to deal with the painting again. They hurried after him along the corridor, following the sound of his armor. Every now and then they spotted him running through a picture ahead.

"Be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come!" yelled the knight, and they saw him reappear in front of an alarmed group of women in crinolines, whose picture hung on the wall of a narrow spiral staircase.

Eridan, Ron, and Hermione climbed the tightly spiraling steps, the ex-troll noticing that his friends seemed to be at their limit. Ron looked out of breath and Hermione's hair was frizzier than normal. Both were panting when they finally reached their destination. Eridan stared at them, confused. Didn't he have the same stamina as them, or did that time on the train bring back more than just his memories?

"Farewell!" cried the knight, popping his head into a painting of some sinister-looking monks, "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"

"Yeah, we'll call you," muttered Ron as the knight disappeared, "if we ever need someone mental."

They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this landing, but Ron nudged Harry and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.

"'Sybill Trelawwney, Divination teacher,'" Eridan read, "Howw are wwe supposed to get up there?"

As though in answer to his question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Eridan's feet. Everyone got quiet.

"After you," said Ron, grinning, so Eridan climbed the ladder first with a roll of his eyes.

He emerged into the strangest-looking classroom he had ever seen. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little beanbags. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.

Ron appeared at Eridan's shoulder as the class assembled around them, all talking in whispers.

"Where is she?" Ron asked.

A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice.

"Welcome, how nice to see you in the physical world at last."

Eridan's immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect, and not the type troll came from. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin. Her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

He thought the woman was trying a little too hard to come off as a mystical seer.

"Sit, my children, sit." she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto beanbags.

"Welcome to Divination," whispered Professor Trelawney, who had seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire, "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Nobody said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement. A recluse then? No… Eridan discreetly sniffed the air. The scents of the room were covering something. He tried to pinpoint the smell that wasn't being broadcasted. Ah, there. Alcohol. So the Professor stayed up here drinking? Hardly a role model for such impressionable young humans.

Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you… Books can take you only so far in this field…"

At these words Ron glanced, grinning, at Hermione, who looked startled at the news that books wouldn't be much help in this subject.

"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face, "It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," she shouted suddenly to Neville, who almost toppled off his beanbag. "Is your grandmother well?"

"I think so," whimpered Neville tremulously.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," said Professor Trelawney, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings.

Neville gulped.

Professor Trelawney continued placidly, "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, "beware a red-haired man."

Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her and edged her chair away from him.

"In the second term," Professor Trelawney continued, "we shall progress to the crystal ball — if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever."

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it.

"I wonder, dear," she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, "if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"

Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.

"Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading, it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October."

Lavender trembled.

"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear," she caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up, "after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."

Sure enough, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china.

Professor Trelawney swept over to him holding a dustpan and brush and said, "One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn't mind… thank you…"

When Eridan and Ron had had their teacups filled, they went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly. They swilled the dregs around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over.

"Right," said Ron as they both opened their books at pages five and six, "What can you see in mine?"

"Right, you havve got a crooked sort of cross…" he consulted 'Unfogging the Future', "That means you're going to havve 'trials and sufferin', but there's another part that could be the sun. Hang on… that means 'great happiness'… so you're goin to suffer but be vvery happy about it…"

"You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me," chirruped Ron, and they both had to stifle their laughs as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction.

"My turn…" Ron peered into Eridan's teacup, his forehead wrinkling with effort, "There's a blob a bit like a bowler hat… Maybe you're going to work for the Ministry of Magic…"

"I sure hope not." Eridan quipped, making the redhead guffaw.

Ron turned the teacup the other way up.

"But this way it looks more like an acorn… what's that?" Ron scanned his copy of Unfogging the Future, "'A windfall, unexpected gold.' Excellent, you can lend me some. And there's a thing here," he turned the cup again, "that looks like an animal… yeah, if that was its head… it looks like a hippo… no, a sheep…"

Professor Trelawney whirled around as Ron let out a snort of laughter.

"Let me see that, my dear," she said reprovingly to Ron, sweeping over and snatching Eridan's cup from him.

Everyone went quiet to watch. Professor Trelawney stared into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.

"The falcon… my dear, you have a deadly enemy."

"But everyone knows that," said Hermione in a loud whisper.

Professor Trelawney stared at her.

"Well, they do," sniffed Hermione, "Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who."

Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Eridan's cup again and continued to turn it.

"The club… an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup…"

"I thought that was a bowler hat," commented Ron sheepishly.

"The skull… danger in your path, my dear…"

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed. There was another tinkle of breaking china. Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.

"My dear boy… my poor dear boy… no… it is kinder not to say… no… don't ask me…"

"What is it, Professor?" asked Dean Thomas at once.

Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Eridan and Ron's table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Eridan's cup.

"My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you have the Grim."

"Excuse me?" asked Eridan.

He could tell that he wasn't the only one who didn't understand. Dean Thomas shrugged at him and Lavender Brown looked puzzled, but nearly everybody else clapped their hands to their mouths in horror.

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that Eridan hadn't understood, "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen… the worst omen… of _death_!"

A little too late for that, Eridan thought, should have told me that _before_ I got cut in half by a jade-blooded rainbow-drinking fashionista…

Talking with the Seer of Mind had cleared certain obscurities of future sight up, one of them being that some omens are actually warnings from the past. He didn't know how he knew this, but the moment Professor Trelawney had told him of his death omen, Eridan knew that it had already passed. One factor of this may have had something to do with the fact that he had already died, and he wasn't going to be leaving his new home anytime soon.

Lavender Brown clapped her hands to her mouth. Everyone was looking at Eridan, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney's chair.

"I don't think it looks like a Grim," she stated flatly.

Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike.

"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."

Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from side to side.

"It looks like a Grim if you do this," he surmised, with his eyes almost shut, "but it looks more like a donkey from here," he finished, leaning to the left.

Eridan discreetly surveyed the room. Everyone seemed to be avoiding the prospect of even glancing in his general direction, something the ex-troll internally snorted at. His demise had already passed; painfully, humiliatingly, but passed nonetheless.

"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice, "Yes… please pack away your things…"

Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and closed their bags. Even Ron was avoiding his eyes.

"Until we meet again," said Professor Trelawney faintly, "fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear," she pointed at Neville, "you'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up."

As he descended the ladder, Eridan grudgingly wondered if the class was worth taking after all, because he was rather sure that even Pyrope could have made better predictions than her.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Oni: That's all for now folks!**

 **Eridan: Don't forget to read and revvieww, and thanks to those wwho havve revviewwed, followwed and favorited this fanfiction.**

 **Oni: And I shall see you next time, my pretties!**


	5. Beast of Burden

**_Beast of Burden_**

 **AN:**

 **Oni: *shrinks away from angry mob* Uuuuuh...**

 **Eridan: This has been sittin dormant for almost twwo years. Wwhat do you expect?**

 **Oni: I'm sorry! College, procrastination and other fanfics have taken up my time!**

 **Eridan: *sigh* Better late than nevver, I guess...**

 **Oni: That's the spirit!**

 **Eridan: Oni does not owwn Harry Potter or Homestuck. This idea, howwevver, is hers.**

 **Oni: Aaaaaaand ONWARDS!**

* * *

It took them so long to find McGonagall's classroom that, early as they had left Divination, they were only just in time. Eridan chose a seat right at the back of the room, feeling as though he were sitting in a very bright spotlight. The rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at him, as though he were about to drop dead at any moment. Absentmindedly he wondered what they would think of had they known that he had already suffered a gruesome death.

While the other students were still frightened from their class, Eridan listened in rapt attention to Professor McGonagall's lecture on animagi. To better explain to the class how it was done, she transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes. Eridan raised his eyebrows at this. The ability to turn into another animal at will was a rather useful ability to have. Thinking along those lines, since Eridan wasn't a human in his past life, could he perchance find a way to turn back into his troll form at will?

This was a cause for some serious research.

Professor McGonagall turned back into herself with a faint _pop_ , and stared around at them all.

"Really, what has got into you all today? Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not gotten applause from a class."

Everybody's heads turned toward Eridan again, who internally rolled his eyes, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand.

"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and-"

"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning, "There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"

So predictions of death were normal in that woman's class? Well in hindsight, Eridan mused, death was rather simple to predict. Everyone eventually dies. Everyone stared at her silently.

"Me," Eridan answered finally in a bored tone.

"I see," muttered Professor McGonagall, fixing him with her beady eyes, "Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues —" Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white.

She went on, more calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney…"

She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in."

Hermione laughed and Eridan snorted. Not everyone was convinced, however. Ron still looked worried, and Lavender whispered more to herself than anyone else a 'But what about Neville's cup?'

When the Transfiguration class had finished, they joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch.

"Ron, cheer up," sighed Hermione, pushing a dish of stew toward him, "You heard what Professor McGonagall said."

Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn't start.

"Harry," he mumbled, in a low, serious voice, "You haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

"I havve, actually." Eridan answered, confused, "The night I escaped from the Dursleys, there wwas a large black dog standin in my path. Rather friendly beast, if not a bit too thin."

Ron let his fork fall with a clatter.

"Probably a stray," commented Hermione calmly.

Ron looked at Hermione as though she had gone mad.

"Hermione, if Harry's seen a Grim, that's… that's bad," he whispered, "My… my uncle Bilius saw one and… and he died twenty-four hours later!"

It had been quite a while since he had seen that dog, and Eridan highly doubted he would be dying anytime soon.

"Coincidence," replied Hermione airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" shouted Ron, starting to get angry, "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"There you are, then," said Hermione in a superior tone, "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry's still with us because he's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!"

At the mention of buckets, Eridan spat out his goblet of pumpkin juice. Because of this violent reaction, both Ron (whose face was starting to turn a bright red) and Hermione (who had looked as if she were about to leave) stopped immediately in their tracks to stare at him.

"See?" Ron whispered, frightened, "he's dying already!"

"B…bucket…" Eridan sputtered suddenly, to the confusion of everyone around him.

The problem wasn't the fact that Hermione had even said the word 'buckets' (okay, it was still _part_ of the problem), it was that even now he was still affected by troll vocabulary. Humans wouldn't understand why he… oh dear… He stared at their confused and alarmed faces.

He had to make an exit, and fast.

"Er, Harry? What's going…?"

"I need…I need to go…" Eridan muttered out, still coughing from the pumpkin juice he had accidentally inhaled, and nodded at Hermione, "I'll…I'll see you in Arithmancy…"

With that, the ex-troll jumped straight over the Gryffindor table and absconded from the Great Hall with agility that none of the students had ever seen him have before, leaving them to simply stare at the space he once occupied in shock. Eridan ran into an empty classroom and hung the Time Turner's chain around his neck. He flicked the small hourglass four times and watched in fascination as the dust particles in the room floated upwards as time itself rewinded to a set point. After the dust started to fall in the proper direction once more, Eridan took out his Invisibility Cloak and wrapped it around himself.

What was _wrong_ with him? He tried to act like Harry, he tried not to let his troll nature shine through. This was his second chance, and he had friends who legitimately seemed to worry and care for him no matter how many mistakes he made. If they ever found out how…murderous and nasty he could be they'll leave him for sure, just like Karkat and Feferi did. Why go back to being a person everyone seemed to loathe with their very being? Not even the incidents in the previous two years of Hogwarts compared to the disgust in his ex-friends eyes during that dratted game.

Like the silent hunter he used to be, Eridan stalked down the halls, navigating his way to the Arithmancy classroom. The walls were covered in number circles of varying complexity, some similar to the designs he had seen in LOWAA. He shoved his cloak back in his pocket, and scoured the back cupboard for an extra textbook (since it was a last minute change, he would just have to order one later). Luckily he managed to find a decent copy, and sat down behind one of the tables, sighing heavily. After a few minutes other students had begun trickling in, including a rather excited Hermione. Judging by her lighthearted canter into the classroom, Eridan surmised that she had taken this class before using the Time Turner to get to Divination.

"Morning, Harry!" she happily greeted, seating herself next to him before taking out her own books.

"Mornin, Hermione." he greeted back, internally sighing in relief that he wouldn't have to explain his sudden departure from the Great Hall if she hadn't witnessed it yet.

That bought him enough time to think of a decent excuse when he met them for Care of Magical Creatures later. Hopefully he also managed to find a way to quell his accent before it started to worry people. That or he could say that it was some sort of temporary brain damage due to Dementors. The question, again, was if he should choose to use his troll history or if he should continue with the way he had been for the past thirteen years. Or perhaps he should take a Gryffindor stance and just power through as best he could.

He decided he liked that.

Eridan was brought out of his musings by the entrance of the Arithmancy teacher, Professor Septima Vector. She wore a dark crimson robe and witch's hat, and had straight long dark brown hair. Perhaps it was simply his sentimentality, but Eridan couldn't brush off the similarities he saw between his Professor and Megido. He shook his head to clear away those thoughts. It was best to focus on the lesson starting in front of him first, and he felt the old troll side of him grin widely as he surveyed the curriculum that was being outlined by Professor Vector at the front. It was going to be rather difficult and complicated, but Eridan knew he could do it. He _was_ a book nerd, after all. Complex calculations and ridiculous explanations were part of the reason Vriska hated him so much when they FLARPed.

The time spent in Arithmancy seemed to pass much more quickly than it did in Divination, which conveyed the level of interest he had in this class compared to that one. After the lesson had finished, Hermione had bade him goodbye and told him that she would see him in Divination shortly. Seeing as that meant his past self was still walking from Divination to Transfiguration, Eridan decided to make decent use of his time.

Which was why he was standing in front of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He heaved a sigh. Well, he _did_ promise to get some extra reading done, and now seemed like an excellent time to do so. With that he cautiously entered the bathroom, creeping past where Myrtle was wailing in the far right stall. His eyes fell to where the serpent was engraved on the side of the entrance, absentmindedly wondering why Slytherin would ever put the entrance to his Chamber in a girl's lavatory.

A hiss in parseltongue granted him entrance once more, and Eridan steeled himself for the rigorous cleaning that he was about to do, and leapt into the pipeline. The slide down was about as much fun as the first time, except for the part where the end was covered in tiny animal bones. Eridan grumbled slightly as he brushed off his clothes of the bones, taking in the state of where he hoped to make his sanctuary. Surveying the damage done to it during the incident last year, and the giant rotting corpse of the Basilisk, Eridan concluded that he wasn't going to get any reading done in here for a while. Even so, he rolled up his sleeves, and brandished his wand.

Time to get to work.

* * *

His wrist ached, and his arms a little weak, but he was happy with the progress he ha made with the cleanup of the Chamber. He managed to clear up the entrance a little bit, and had resorted to using Ahab's Crosshairs to blast away most of the fallen rock and debris. It had felt good to use his rifle again, even if it was for something mundane.

He even managed to get some more reading done, which was difficult once he got to his Care of Magical Creatures textbook. Eridan only remembered after he procured the bound biting book of its beastial nature, but refused to give into such a small nuisance. Amporas were nothing but stubborn, and he finally managed to find the key in calming it down. He had stroked its spine in an effort to calm it down the same way he would Seahorsedad all those sweeps ago, and lo and behold, the book gave a shudder before dropping limp. A feeling of victory bubbled inside him, and he had managed to get through a fifth of the book before he had realized it was time for his next lesson.

This was his mood when he headed to the forest. It was rather nice to get out of the stifling castle for a change, Eridan decided, as the rain from the previous day had already let up. The sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as they set off for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class.

Surprisingly, neither Ron nor Hermione questioned him on his absconding during lunchtime. Instead, they seemed to be pointedly ignoring each other, telling Eridan that they had some sort of fight after he left. They walked in silence as they went down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Not that he wasn't worried about them, but Eridan thought the silence was rather nice, if not for the palpable tension between his friends.

It was only when he spotted three all too familiar backs ahead of them that he realized they were going to be having these lessons with the Slytherins. Malfoy was talking animatedly to Crabbe and Goyle, who were chortling. Eridan was quite sure he knew what they were talking about, and rolled his eyes. Wasn't there anything else for these people to talk about? Hopefully the lesson will take up most of their attention.

Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start. The nervousness was clear in the chemicals his bod let out, though Eridan could sense excitement as well.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" he called as the class approached, "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

They were led to the edge of the forest, a little ways inside. A paddock was open to them, though Eridan didn't see any beasts inside. He wondered if they were invisible, or if they were simply too far off at the moment for them to see.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it... make sure yeh can see... now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books-" Hagrid began, before he was interrupted by Malfoy.

"How?" he drawled.

"Eh?" Hagrid asked.

"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated.

He took out his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Other people took theirs out too. Some had belted their book shut, and others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips. Eridan, however, procured his now-docile textbook smugly. Hagrid seemed to noticed this, thankfully, and beamed.

"Ah! Looks like 'arry's got it!" he said happily, and the class all looked to Eridan incredulously.

"It's an animal book, you're supposed to pet it." Eridan deadpanned, flopping the book in Malfoy's face.

To further his point, he dragged his finger down Neville's copy, which immediately fell limp in the boy's hands. Neville whispered his thanks to Eridan, of which the troll wizard nodded to. He smirked smugly at Malfoy, but the Slytherin boy was not done yet.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" Malfoy sneered, "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"

"Well, Malfoy, at least you know how well you're going to do in this class." Eridan sneered back, "If you can't handle the book, what are you going to do up against an actual magical creature?"

The Gryffindors began to guffaw as they all stroked the spines of the books, the Slytherin silently doing the same. Malfoy's face was as red as Vantas when he realized Pyrope had drawn in the discs of his Rom Coms. Hagrid, on the other hand, beamed brightly, and gave the Gryffindor House ten points for 'smart thinking'. He then went to go collect the creatures that they would be learning about for the day, walking further into the paddock.

"Merlin, this place is going to the dogs!" exclaimed Malfoy loudly, trying to gain back some ground, "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him!"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ron growled out, before something in the distance caught the entire class' attention.

"Oooooooh!" squealed Lavender Brown, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Trotting toward them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Eridan had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of hoofbeats, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant cawbeasts, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly, orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

Eridan marveled at the sight. These were strong, powerful creatures that were probably incredibly dangerous. This was exactly why he wanted to take this class. To have even one of these beasts under his control would increase his chances of winning future battles. He may not have the ability to control animals like Nitram, but Eridan was good at finding and luring dangerous Lusii to their deaths.

"Gee up, there!" Hagrid roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood.

The beasts were even more massive up close, and everyone drew back slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid exclaimed happily, waving a hand at the beasts, "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

And indeed they were. Proud and noble looking creatures they were, with gleaming coats changing smoothly from feather to fur, each of them a different color. Eridan could spot stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black. Each were staring at the apples that Hagrid had in his hands. Of course, they were part hoovebeast and cawbeast, they would be omnivores. He wondered absentmindedly if these creatures were the fate of the dead polecat that Hagrid was carrying early that morning.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer…"

Eridan, showing his Gryffindor side completely today, stepped forward eagerly to get a better look at these incredible beasts. Ron and Hermione followed him cautiously while the rest of the class stayed back, too afraid to move closer.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud," explained Hagrid, "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

This only made Eridan lean forward more. Proud and dangerous, just like him. Perhaps one of these hippogriffs could even work as a temporary Lusus. Even though Hedwig tried her best all these years to do so, Eridan can't exactly ride his owl into battle. His ears, however, picked up hushed whispering from behind him, curtesy of Malfoy and company. He would have to pay attention to them too, the last thing he wanted was for this lesson to be ruined by idiots who held a grudge.

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued, his smile getting more prominent on his face,"It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt. Right… who wants ter go first?"

Eridan immediately raised his hand, eyes transfixed on the hippogriffs, while most of the class backed farther away in answer. He could see why, they were very intimidating beasts, but it would be cowardly and weak to not want to face such powerful creatures. There was an intake of breath from behind him.

"Oooh, no, Harry, remember your tea leaves!" both Lavender and Parvati whispered.

Ignoring the sounds of worrying behind him, Eridan skillfully jumped the rather low fence of the paddock, eliciting sounds of shock from his classmates. Really, the fence wasn't _that_ high. The hippogriffs probably could easily cross it with a single flap of their wings.

"Good man, Harry!" roared Hagrid in approval, "Right then! Let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

Buckbeak turned out to be the hippogriff with stormy grey coat. It reminded him much of the shade of troll hide. Hagrid untied Buckbeak's chains and pulled it away from the other ones, towards Eridan, before slipping off the leather collar around its neck. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath, Malfoy's eyes narrowing maliciously.

"Easy now, Harry," said Hagrid quietly, "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink... Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much..."

Eridan fought down the instinct to blast the beast like he would hunting Lusii, approaching the creature called 'Buckbeak' with the confidence of one who has laughed in the face of death on a weekly basis. Buckbeak, from what he could tell by the expression on its birdlike face, was not only proud, but vain. The way the creature would preen its feathers whilst ignoring the frightened children that Eridan was sure it knew were standing just a few feet away was almost breathtaking.

Unblinkingly he stared down the beast, green eyes unafraid and curious. A single orange eye regarded him with tempered ferocity, which piqued his interest even more. These creatures had so much personality, no wonder Nitram loved them.

"Tha's it," said Hagrid from somewhere behind him, "Tha's it, Harry... now, bow."

Harry's penchant for listening to Hagrid's every word somehow overcame Eridan's own indignation and pride. As he bowed to the creature, he forced himself not to think about what had just internally transpired, deciding to ponder on it once he wasn't in front of seemingly imminent danger. When he straightened back up once more, he saw that the hippogriff had not moved.

He heard Hagrid's say something from behind him, but he paid the man no heed. Determined green eyes glittered as he dared the hippogriff attack him after he showed the beast the respect it was due. In reply, Buckbeak instead bent down his taloned foreleg, an unmistakable bow to the boy who was once a prince. A smile spread across his features.

"Well done, Harry!" shouted Hagrid, ecstatic. "Right! Yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

Pale fingers felt the curved beak in front of him, patting the beast down in a manner similar to how he would treat Seahorsedad. Old habits kicked in as he began to groom his fingers through feathers like he used to with filamented fins. Buckbeak closed his eyes, enjoyed the preening from obviously practiced hands. Forehead touched the top of the beak like an old friend, memories of pale white scales and flapping fins flitting within.

Applause broke out from the students behind him, though he was quite sure Malfoy and his bodyguards were distinctly disappointed in the fact that he wasn't torn to shreds yet. A booming voice quieted them down and broke Eridan out of his reverie.

"Righ' then, Harry," said Hagrid happily, "I reckon he might' let yeh ride him! Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint, an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that..."

Just like he used to with his Lusus, he leapt onto Buckbeak's back in one swift motion, situating himself on the beast's back as the hippogriff began to stand up. Before Hagrid could even tap the hindquarters of the beast, Eridan had already dug his heels into Buckbeak's sides, urging him into flight. Long wings unfurled on either side, and in a single large wingbeat the two of them were airborne.

The familiar rush of air took Eridan back to magenta skies and flashes of pure white beams, back to a time that he was at least tolerated by friends and before that accursed game. Buckbeak's flight was clunkier than his Lusus but wasn't any less exhilarating as he twisted and turned in the air, remembering the joy of riding a living creature as opposed to a silent broom. It was a kind of bonding one had, the rider and their beast, the troll and their Lusus. He couldn't help but let out a whoop of joy, the flight of Buckbeak so nostalgic, yet so very new. Fingers ran through the feathers on the hippogriff's neck as legs held the body in place on the flying beast, which seemed to make Buckbeak very happy.

Eridan looked down below the hippogriff, expertly driving the beast above the lake and around the tops of the forest. He wove through the trees at a speed that his Lusus could never achieve, in ways that a floating seahorse could not even try to match. Needless to say, his affinity for beasts wasn't quite on par with Nitram, but Buckbeak's seemed to be responding to him very well.

The sound of gasps and cheering could be heard from down below, as his classmates watched as he urged the hippogriff to finally land. Hooves and talons collided with the grass and dirt, and Eridan expertly dismounted Buckbeak as he used to Seahorsedad, petting the beast's feathers and beak one last time before he heard Hagrid's booming voice once more.

"Good work, Harry!" came the groundskeeper's voice above the noises of the rest of the class, "Okay, who else wants to go?"

It seemed that his mastery of the hippogriff gave everyone else the courage to approach the rest of the flock. Hagrid untied the hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously all around the paddock. Eridan helped Neville to muster up enough nerve to make the pinkish roan beast bow, before his ears picked up the mumbling and chuckles coming from where Malfoy and his twin idiots were. They had taken over Buckbeak, who was regarding the boys in slight curiosity. Eridan did not like the haughty looks they were giving the hippogriff, and wondered if the Slytherin boy's plan was as stupid as he was thinking at the current moment. Buckbeak seemed to sense the dislike coming from the ex-troll as Eridan shook his head from behind Malfoy, and refused to bow.

Malfoy was, understandably, irate with this, backing away and glaring at the defiant hippogriff. Eridan slowly prowled closer, knowing Malfoy's penchant to insult those he didn't like might put him in danger of inciting Buckbeak's wrath. As much as it would be funny to watch the blond human be torn to shreds, his own human side of Harry held Hagrid in a high regard.

"This class is a right sham!" Malfoy drawled out with a smirk, "These beasts obviously can't tell the difference between decent wizards and… unsavory ones." at this, he sneered in Ron and Hermione's direction, who were patting the neck of a chestnut hippogriff, "Can't even bow to your betters, can you, you big ugly brute?"

Buckbeak reared back almost immediately, but Eridan had expected such a reaction and so was in front of the hippogriff, shushing the beast down and patting his beak. Gasps and quite a few screams elicited from behind him, but he paid them no heed as he shushed Buckbeak into submission once more. Once the hippogriff had backed away, he turned around to see the horrified looks of his peers.

It was only when Hagrid rushed forward and picked him up did he realize that he was bleeding from a large gash on his arm. In his haste to spare Malfoy from an injury that would have surely cost Hagrid his newfound job, Eridan had forgotten the very fragile and fleshy nature of Harry Potter's body. The pain that coursed from his arm was nothing compared to some nearly fatal wounds that he had sustained during Sgrub or even FLARP, which was probably why he barely noticed it. The Harry part of Eridan also ignored the pain in favor of helping Hagrid.

"I'm fine, Hagrid. You don't havve to wworry about me." Eridan told the giant man, inwardly cursing how his accent made it sound like he was stuttering, "I can get to the Hospital Wwing on my owwn, you havve a case to teach."

Malfoy had a constipated look on his face as he stared up at his 'savior', with the rest of the class at a loss for words as Eridan wrenched himself from Hagrid's grip and waved his injured arm at them to show that he was fine. Hagrid looked both relieved and dubious, his beady eyes staring down at the ex-troll in worry.

"If yeh'r sure…" he began with no little amount of trepidation, only for Eridan to quickly placate him.

"It's not as bad as it looks, and besides, it wwas just an accident." he said, forcing a smile to his face.

The giant of a man looked immediately relieved, buying his act in a way that the rest of the class didn't seem to. In truth, the students were probably too spooked by the attack to try with the hippogriffs again. Hagrid managed to heard them all back inside the paddock, the children looking nervously at the hippogriffs as if they were to rampage in any second. Neville, who was looking a little green around the gills (ha, fish puns. It's been a while) was selected to escort Eridan to the hospital wing. The two of them walked to the castle in silence, listening as Hagrid gave an impromptu speech on the importance of respecting the beasts.

With the immediate danger to Hagrid's job gone, the oppressive feeling of Harry's protective nature faded back into the recesses of his mind. Eridan resolved to take a closer look at what was really happening between the clashing personalities of Eridan Ampora and Harry Potter later. For now, he needed to get to Madame Pomfrey.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **Oni: That's all for now, folks!**

 **Eridan: Don't forget to Followw, Favv, and Revvieww.**

 **Oni: And I'll see you next time (whenever that may be), my pretties!**


End file.
